The Death Games
by THeSHaDoWPuPPeTTe
Summary: The world is now under the Kishin's rule, and Lord Death is off the grid. Many years later, the twelve sectors must learn to defend themselves from the madness; however, not all of them stay alive. To save her sister, Maka has been forced to fight twenty-three other souls to Death in a game made for the amusement of Death City; and with a mysterious young man she met before...
1. The Sector

**DISCLAIMER: I OWN NOTHING... I JUST "VOLUNTEERED 'SOUL EATER' AS TRIBUTE" ;D**

 _I think I have a lot to explain..._

 _F_ _irst,_ _this is set after a battle between the Kishin and Lord Death, and the Kishin wins. This leads Death to hiding out in a rundown city. Under the Kishin's rule, the entire world was divided into 12 Sectors. No one even remembers the countries' original names!_

 _Second, I know there's an argument about this whole gender thing, but Crona is a girl in my story._

 _Lastly-for now-I have all twenty-four tributes and extra characters named. However, I'm still debating on whether I should keep all twenty-four, since most of them aren't that important anyways._

 _I'm willing to answer any questions you may have, so please R &R! Chapters updated weekly, and don't forget..._

 ** _^^THe SHaDoWPuPPeTTe iS aLWaYS WaTCHiNG^^_**

* * *

When I wake up, the other side of my bed is absolutely _freezing_. My fingers stretch out, desperately searching for Crona's warmth, but only finding the rough mattress. I groan. She must have had nightmares and slept with Blair. Poor thing-why wouldn't she? It's Reaping Day.

I sit up, glancing at the dark corner of the room. What little sunlight there is falls onto my adopted sister, Crona, curled up and shivering. Her face is still as lovely and fresh as the dew on roses, despite the tragedies of her former life. Mother was beautiful once, or at least that's what I'm told.

Wrapped in Crona's arms, guarding her in a way, is the world's brattiest cat; large hat, stuck up attitude, evil smile, and knowing eyes. Crona named her Blair, because of her beautifully odd purple-ish coat. She hates me, or distrusts me at least. Even though it's been years, I'm pretty sure she remembers when I tried to kill her after Crona brought her home. She was scrawny little kitten back then, infected with worms, and crawling with fleas. Why waste my time with that? But then, when Crona started crying, I had to let her stay. It turned out just fine. Crona took care of the infectious vermin, and Blair's actually a born mouser. She chases rats, frogs, spiders, even the occasional snake! Sometimes, when I clean my kill, because Crona can't, I give the entrails to her. I'm pretty sure that's how I got her to stop hissing every time she saw me. So, entrails equals no hissing. When it comes to us, that's as close to love as you get.

I slide off the bed and into my grey boots, which are huge despite my small feet. I slip on my usual red skirt, long sleeve white undershirt, and yellow sleeveless shirt to top off the look. I also put on a green tie that my father used to wear. Pulling my hair into pigtails, I see a little bowl, placed upside down, on the table in the kitchen. Under the bowl, which was used to protect it from thieving, snobby cats, lay a small goat cheese wrapped in basil leaves. Crona's gift to me for Reaping Day. I carefully place the cheese in my pocket as I sneak outside. Crona can take care of herself, and she's got Blair and Ragnarok.

Our part of Sector 12 is usually loaded with Soul miners off to work at this time. Tons of men and women with large muscles and busted knuckles, who have given up on trying to clean the dirt and dust from under their broken fingernails. But today, the dark streets are empty. On each little house, all the openings to the outside world are closed. The Reaping is this afternoon; families are trying to sleep while they can.

Our house is near the edge of the Sector. I only have to walk a few blocks to reach the scruffy old field on the outskirts of town. The town and field are split apart by a large, chain-link fence with barbed wire on top. The fence is supposed to be electrified twenty-four hours a day as a deterrent to the madness; pre-kishins and such that used to threaten our streets. Now we only get about two or three hours of electricity a day, so it's usually safe to touch. Either way, I always listen for a hum that means the fence is on. Right now, it's as silent as the grave.

Flattening a few bushes, I lie down on my stomach and slip under a two foot stretch in the fence that's been loose for years. Several other spots in the fence are weak, but I enter the field here because it's so close to home. As soon as I'm in, I walk through a secret tunnel in the nearby mountains. I grab a large scythe from a crevice before entering, and I exit on the other side to reveal a hidden forest. Powered or not, the fence has always protected Sector 12 from madness, but inside the woods, the very air is crawling with it.

There are other dangers too, such as venomous snakes, rabid beasts, and no trails to guide your way; but there's still food if you can get it. My father knew how; he even taught me a few tricks before he was killed by a pre-kishin. We couldn't even encase his soul, because it had been swallowed whole. Back then, I was only eleven. Yet five years later, I still wake up screaming.

Even though it's illegal to trespass the fence, and penalties for poaching are severe, anyone with a weapon would risk it. Sadly, most are too scared to venture out with your everyday butcher knife. My scythe is a rarity, forged by father along with some smaller ones I keep hidden in the woods, carefully wrapped in waterproof covers. He could have made some good money selling them, but if the officials found out, he would have been accused of rebelling, and executed in public.

Most of the Death Seals ignore us hunters, because they're as starving as everyone else; in fact, they may be our best customers. The idea of a rebellion in the Sector, however, would not have been allowed. In fall, a few with brave souls venture out to harvest apples, but they're always close enough to see the town, so that they could run back to the safety of Sector 12 if needed.

"Sector 12, where you can starve to Death himself in peace." I mutter under my breath, while quickly glancing over my shoulder. Even in the middle of nowhere, you're worried that someone can hear you.

When I was younger, I always scared my mother to near Death. The things I would say about the sector, and the people who ruled in a far off place called Death City. Eventually, I understood this would only get us into more trouble. So I learned to shut my mouth, and to put on a mask in order to hide my emotions and inner thoughts from everyone. I do my work quietly in school, only make small talk with others, and discuss nothing but trade in Arachnophobia, a black market where I make nearly all of my money. Even at home, where I'm more like myself, I avoid tricky topics in conversation: food shortages, the Reaping, and especially the Death Games. Crona might repeat my words, and then what?

In the woods waits the only person that I can truly be myself with. Soul "Eater" Evans. I can feel my face relaxing and my pace quickening as I climb the hill to our spot, the old communications tower. It looks kind of dull, but from the top, it overlooks a valley, and a large circle of fruit trees hides it from unwanted eyes; we're completely safe. The sight of him waiting for me on one of the poles makes me smile. It's true, as Soul says, that I only smile in the woods.

"Hey, Gregory."


	2. The Meeting

_**DISCLAIMER: I OWN NOTHING...:(**_

 _The only thing I have to say is that I'm going to be posting new chapters more often than I originally said. So please ask questions, R &R, and always remember..._

 ** _^^THe SHaDoWPuPPeTTe iS aLWaYS WaTCHiNG^^_**

* * *

 _Previously, on 'The Death Games'..._

 _In the woods waits the only person that I can truly be myself with. Soul "Eater" Evans. I can feel my face relaxing and my pace quickening as I climb the hill to our spot, the old communications tower. It looks kind of dull, but from the top, it overlooks a valley, and a large circle of fruit trees hides it from unwanted eyes; we're completely safe. The sight of him waiting for me on one of the poles makes me smile. It's true, as Soul says, that I only smile in the woods._

 _"Hey, Gregory."_

* * *

"Hey, Gregory." Souls says. My name is Maka, but I had boasted about how I had a Grigori Soul, which is very rare today.

"It's _Grigori_ ," I say through my teeth. I can feel a vein pulsing in my forehead, and my left brow twitching from annoyance. "And do you have to call me by my soul? You don't see me calling you Alberto or something like that, do you?"

"Whatever," Soul holds up a loaf of bread pierced with a butcher's knife on a stick. A miniature scythe. My mood brightens instantly, and take the loaf in my hands. It's real bakery bread, not the horrid bread made from the grain Death City gives us. "Look what I caught."

I remove the "scythe", and hold the puncture in the bread to my nose, inhaling the aroma that makes my mouth water. Bread like this should not be wasted, but we're probably going to. At least, Soul might.

"Ooh, it's still _warm_ ," I moan. He must have been at the bakery before sunrise to trade for it. Then I realise something, and begin to feel annoyed again. "How'd you steal it _this_ time?"

" _Actually_ ," he scoffs, and it looks like he's pouting as he glares at me. "I traded for it. Old man Shinigami had it and decided it was only worth one squirrel. I think he felt sorry for me, he even wished me _luck_."

"Well," I reply sarcastically. "Don't we _all_ feel a little closer today?" I suddenly remember something, and grin. "Oh, I almost forgot! Crona left us a cheese this morning!"

As I pull out the treat, I see his expression brighten. He suddenly places his hands together and bows his head.

"Thank Death himself," he says. "For Crona. This is gonna be so cool!"

Then he starts mocking Marie Mjolnir, the insanely positive woman who reads the names at the Reaping. I don't get how someone could be so bright and preppy for an occasion like this. It's kind of scary, especially with the black patch over her left eye.

"Oh, silly me, I almost forgot! Have a dandy Death Game!" he says while tossing a berry my way. "And may Death Himself…"

I catch the berry in my mouth, breaking the fragile skin. An explosion of tart flavors fill my mouth.

"...be ever in your favor!" I laugh. We always joke about the Reaping, because the alternative is to be scared into madness. Besides, almost anything sounds funny when Marie says it, because she can be so clumsy.

I watch as Soul pulls out a knife and slices the bread. Kids mistake him for a demon, and it's not very hard to see why. He has an Albino soul. His hair is white and spiky, his teeth are sharp and pointed, and his eyes are a deep crimson color. But, these traits don't make him a monster, he's just a one-of-a-kind human. Most people in Sector 12 have dirty blonde hair and emerald green eyes like me, which is why Soul, Crona, and from what I've heard the Shinigamis, stand out. However, Crona is special for a different reason.

Crona was born just like me, along with basically everyone else in this district. She lived with her mother in an apothecary shop out in the field. Her mother was obsessed with alchemy, and a believer in witchcraft. She often experimented on poor Crona. If Crona tried to escape, she would be severely punished. The side effects of these experiments changed Crona's hair from blonde to bright pink. Her eyes became dark; unless she's scared or stressed, then they glowed an electric blue. The creepiest outcome of all of this, though, is that her blood is now black.

My parents noticed her meandering the streets; bruised, bloodied, and nearly driven insane. It took them a while to catch her and calm her down, and even longer to get her name. When they realised who she was, they reported to the Death Seals. Her mother was turned in for child abuse, and my parents were given permission adopt her. I met Crona a year before the accident.

Soul spread the soft goat cheese onto each slice of bread, carefully adding a basil leaf on top, while I gathered fruits and berries. We settle down at the top of the tower, on a plank of wood sticking out over an apple tree. We can't be seen; however, we can still see the field if we really look.

It really is beautiful: the breezy blue skies, the luscious green grass, the sun reflecting off of a lake filled with mysteriously colored yet delicious fish. The food was even better, with cheese seeping into soft, sponge like bread, and berries bursting in our mouths. Every once in a while, Soul would pull out a pre-kishin soul to eat. It was simply a part of his diet, I was more than used to it by now.

If it were a holiday, this would have been fantastic. I could just spend the rest of my day reading, hunting, and goofing off with Soul and Crona. Despite her many fears, she can be really sweet, understanding, and funny. Unfortunately, we have to be in Death Square by two o'clock and wait for the names of young souls to be called out at the Reaping.

"We could do it you know." I jump as Soul whispers in my ear.

"What?" I ask confused.

"Leave the Sector, run off as outcasts, even live in the woods if we have to," he replies. He holds up a fist. "You and I, we're pretty cool partners. We could make it."

I leave him hanging, I just don't know what to say. He must have really gone off the edge this time. Soul lets his arm drop back down to his side dejectedly, disappointment flashing before his eyes briefly.

"If we didn't have so many freaking kids." he quickly adds while smiling.

They're not our kids, but they might as well be. The kids he hangs out with at his place, and Crona, because they can't live on their own. Who would feed the mouths that always asks for more? Even though we hunt and gather everyday, sometimes the game has to be traded for shoelaces or wool, and we go home empty handed and hungry.

"I never want to have kids." I whine. In all honesty, that wasn't true. However, I didn't want to raise kids if I was just going to lose them; and, I didn't want to end up like my parents. I loved them, but they were horrible. My dad was a huge flirt, and he scared my mom of right after we got Crona. Mom leaving hurt both of us, and Dad's sulking didn't help. In desperation, we turned to each other, even though our relationship was rough. Since then, I've been Crona's mother, and she's been my comfort. We're closer than sisters.

"I would, if I didn't live here." he replies with a shrug. That was it.

"I'm sorry to inform you, but you do!" I yell as I knock him upside the head with my hand.

"Ow!" he growls, rubbing the now sore spot. "You know what? Forget it."

This conversation just feels wrong. Leave? How could I possibly leave Crona? No, not gonna happen. Plus, Soul's devoted to his life in the sector. He knows all too well that we can't leave, why bother talking about it? We're too old to be dreaming like that, not when we have to look after ourselves as well as others. And even if we did find a way to leave, where did this stuff about kids come from? There's never been anything romantic between us.

When we met, I was a scrawny little twelve year old; unlike his fourteen year old self, who already looked grown. It took us a lifetime to even talk, then another to stop arguing over every trade. We still argue over the stupidest things, but I can't help if he acts like an idiot! Besides, if he really wants kids, Soul won't have any trouble finding a wife. He's handsome, strong enough to work in the mines, can cook, and to top it all off, he's a hunter who can defeat pre-kishins. The girls at school never shut up about him; heck, even Blair likes him! It makes me jealous, but not for the reason you may think. I don't need a man in my life, but I mean, come on. A good hunting partner is hard to find!

"What do you want to do today?" I ask.

"We can hunt, fish, and gather," Soul ponders. "Why don't we go hunting? I can finish making the new fishing poles later, and it looks like you have plenty of fruit. You go one way, I'll go another, and we'll meet up at old man Shinigami's."

As we turn to go our separate ways, he smiles at me and softly speaks, "Remember to bring something nice for tonight."


	3. The Trade

_I really need to apologize to everyone for not updating any of my stories lately. I've just been REALLY busy with school work and band. I feel like I never get a day off... That doesn't mean I'm not still writing, though! It just means the work is coming along very, VERY slowly._ _I'm gonna try working on one story at a time, so I probably won't be working on anything else until I finish this one. I just don't want to get overwhelmed, and this is the only one I can work on at school._

 _So, please R &R, leave comments, PM me, etc.! And remember..._

 ** _^^THe SHaDoWPuPPeTTe iS aLWaYS WaTCHiNG!^^_**

* * *

 _Previously on 'The Death Games"..._

 _"What do you want to do today?" I ask._

 _"We can hunt, fish, and gather," Soul ponders. "Why don't we go hunting? I can finish making the new fishing poles later, and it looks like you have plenty of fruit. You go one way, I'll go another, and we'll meet up at old man Shinigami's."_

 _As we turn to go our separate ways, he smiles at me and softly speaks, "Remember to bring something nice for tonight."_

* * *

Tonight, just like every year, most of the families for Sector 12 will celebrate, thankful that their children have been spared for another year. On the other hand, two families, maybe more, will enclose themselves in their houses and mentally prepare themselves for the torture that will last several weeks.

Our morning is spent like this: if I know Soul, he'll probably go fishing (without his pole...), I'm going to gather more fruit, and we're both hunting. Some time later, we meet at Shinigami's doorstep at the same time. The only difference is, he's sopping wet.

 _The fish were probably teasing him_ , I thought. _Too bad I never get to watch him fish_ "the cool way."

Just as I suspected, he has not only a few squirrels, but also about a dozen fish in a bag slung over his shoulder. I ended up with a gallon of berries, a sack of greens, and I caught a wild dog for Old Shinigami. We do all of our trading with him; he trades with everyone in Sector 12, and he has everything you could need. He works in an underground booth on the outskirts of Arachnophobia, the black market that operates in an abandoned warehouse. Most businesses are closed on Reaping Day, but "The Death Room" is always open. Oh, another thing about Shinigami, he likes to go by 'Lord Death', hence the name of his trading post.

"Hey, hi, hello!" says a nasal voice as we enter. As always, Lord Death has a friendly voice for customers, acquaintances, and relatives. There's a rumor that I've heard all my life that he has a deep, deadly, and terrifying voice as well... whatever, I've never heard him use it. "I'm only opened until noon, I'll have to watch the Reaping. I sure hope that my top customers don't get drawn today, it would be such a shame!"

Twice my height, cloaked in black, and wearing a white comedic skull mask to top off the look, Death hops, literally, from behind a bookshelf. As soon as he sees us, he waves a gigantic, white gloved hand in our direction.

"Maka! Soul!" he greets us. "It's good to see you! How've you been, what's life like? Get anything good today?"

Soul sweat-drops in annoyance as he replies, "Why do you ask that _everyday_? Nothing has changed since yesterday. In fact, nothing has changed for the past seventy-four years... do you even remember where you live?"

This is how our day always starts. At first, we do our usual trading routine. In return for half the greens, eight fish, the berries, and the dog, we earned bread, salt, paraffin, and some money. Then, we just chat; there isn't anything to chat about, though.

"So," Soul questions hesitantly. "What's with all these crosses you've got? They're everywhere!"

"Good luck," Death replies solemnly, turning away. "I buy them, trade for them, even make them. I feel like I need them in a way. I just don't know what I would do if I lost my beloved son to the Reaping. He's all I have left."

There was a dismal, yet tense, pause before Soul decided to speak up.

"He's not going to Death City," Soul scoffs. Angry crimson eyes glance at the skull shaped pins, rings, and buttons that lay on a dresser. "What does he have, _five_ entries? I had _six_ when I was only _twelve_."

"That's not his fault." I snap at him.

"I wasn't blaming anybody," he replies coolly. "It's just... _luck_."

He turns and walks out the door, leaving me with the poor man. I look at him apologetically, but before I can say anything, he whispers, "It's alright, Maka."

"Lord Death, he still shouldn't-"

"No apologies for the poor boy. He's been through too much in his life already, and the Reaping doesn't help. His soul is troubled, which is why I'm glad he has a good friend like you. I wish my son could've met you, but now it seems you're too old."

"Actually," I start hesitantly, rubbing the back of my neck. "I _might_ have me-"

"I have to close up shop, kid. We can talk after the Reaping," I think he would've smiled at me, but I couldn't see his face. Now that I think about it, I've never seen it in all the years I've known him. "Good luck to you, and Soul as well. You're going to need it with that many entries."

"Thank you, Lord Death. Good luck to your son!" I smile as I exit the booth.

I catch up to where Soul was waiting for me, and we walk towards the Seam in silence. I can't believe he behaved like that, it was very rude. However, he's right. The Reaping _is_ unfair.

It's a requirement to enter the Reaping when you turn twelve, but your name's only entered once. The next year twice, and the next three times; and so on and so forth until you turn eighteen. That year, your name will be written and entered into the Reaping seven times. It works this way for every soul, in every sector. Unfortunately, there's a catch. If you're as poor and suffering as we are, then you can choose to add your name an extra time in exchange for kishin eggs. Each egg is worth a year's supply of grain and oil; enough for one person. You are allowed to enter one for each of your relatives as well.

So, at age twelve, my name was entered four times; one for me, and three for kishin eggs. I've had to do this every year, and previous years add up. If you do the math, it means that my name has been entered twenty times this year. Soul, on the other hand, supports the orphaned children he hangs out with. This year, Soul's name will be in a total of forty-two times. Shinigami's son works for bakers, miners, and even the mayor on occasions. He doesn't need eggs, and that _really_ gets to Soul.

Some days, when hunting, I can hear him ranting to himself about how the kishin egg is a tool. A tool that Death City uses to cause misery, plant hatred, and provoke distrust between the starving souls of Sector 12.

"Death City wants us to hate each other! It gives them the advantage!" he might say, if I was the only one who could hear it. If it wasn't Reaping Day. If Lord Death wasn't desperate enough to actually _believe_ in _luck_.

As we're walking, I glance over to see Soul's stony expression and dark eyes; I know he's still upset. I honestly think his fits are ridiculous, but I'll never tell him to his face. It's not that he's wrong, but what's a tantrum going to do about it? It doesn't change anything, and it certainly doesn't feed us. In fact, it just makes life worse. The _only_ reason I let him yell is because it's better to yell in the woods than in the sector.

Soul divides what we have left, leaving two fish, a few loaves of bread, greens, a quart of berries, and a bit of money for each of us.

"See you at Death Square!" I say brightly, trying to lighten his mood.

"Try to make sure you look _almost_ as cool as me." he replies smugly, a flicker of a smile on his face.

When I'm home, I find my sister ready to go. Crona wants me to wear a dress she found in the old apothecary shop. She, on the other hand, is wearing my first reaping outfit, a pink skirt and ruffled white blouse. It's a little bit too big, and she's having trouble keeping the sleeves rolled up. She's still suffering, even after all this time.

I gasp at the steaming bath waiting for me; Crona can be too nice sometimes. I gladly clean myself of the woodland filth and even wash out my hair. To my surprise, there's a velvet dress laid out on my bed. There are even matching shoes beside it. I can feel my brow twitch at the size of the heels.

"Wow," I gasp. Crona must have brought this for me. I wonder how it's still in this condition. She had to have known it was at her former home, but it probably traumatized her. This shows how much she cares about me. I slip the outfit on, amazed at how comfortable it is, then pull my hair back into pig tails. Once I'm done, I grab matching ribbons from my drawer, and tie them into my hair. I can't even recognize myself in the mirror.

"You look beautiful," Crona whispers, making me jump. I love her to Death himself, but I hate how she sneaks around like some kind of snake. "I'm sorry about the shoes, I know you hate heels. But it was dark, and creepy, and I didn't know how to deal with it, so I just grabbed a pair of shoes and ran back home, but you weren't here, and I had to wait with Blair, and Ragnarok was teasing me again, and it hurt, and I didn't know how to deal with it-!"

"Crona!" I hug her tightly, stroking her hair. I know she's going to panic all day, but I need to keep her calm for her first reaping. I understand, it's always horrifying, but she's as safe as Ragnarok the goat. She's only entered once! "It's okay! You're gonna be okay! I know that place is scary, but I need you to listen to me. Medusa is gone, she can't hurt you anymore. Nothing's going to happen to you, and you know I'll always be here to protect you, right? If you want, we can eat Ragnarok tonight once we come home..."

" _NO!_ " she cries. She runs outside and pulls the black, bug-eyed goat into a bear hug. "I know Ragnarok is mean, but he's good on the inside, I promise! He's just playing, see? I'm fine!"

She smiles, and grabs my hand as we walk towards Death Square; well, she walks and I stumble.

"You are beautiful, you know."

"No, _you're- **whoops!** -_beautiful. _I'm_ - ** _oof!_** -average. I mean, who _doesn't_ love- ** _waah!_** -pink hair and deep violet- ** _ouch!_** -eyes?"

"Stop it, I don't know how to deal with compliments... Hey, Maka?"

"Yes? **_Whoa!_** "

"If you're not beautiful, why does Soul stare at you all the time? And the guy with golden eyes?"

 _"W-what?"_


End file.
